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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27322522">Pointe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta'>akire_yta</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>prompt ficlets [680]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Thunderbirds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ballet!au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:01:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>955</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27322522</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked<br/>Slides sneakily into your askbox----how about that John and Penny ballet AU?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>prompt ficlets [680]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/53353</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Pointe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="lightpanel roundedtop notopborder">
<p></p><div class="textpostbody"><p>“New prima.”  The whisper raced around the practice room like wildfire.</p><p>The rumours had been circulating for days. Casey had been queen of Royal Ballet for years, a long career for a prima. But her ankle had finally given way, and with mere weeks until the premiere, it was felt that there was no-one in the company who could step into the new and technically challenging role at such short notice.</p><p>They’d told John who almost like an afterthought.</p><p>Everyone knew the name, knew the rep. John still sought Kayo out in the throng of dancers stretching, taping up, gossiping, making a beeline from the office to her side. They’d been through school together, made the move together, there was no-one he trusted more. “I wish it was you,” said, knowing she’d know what he meant.</p><p>“I don’t,” she laughed, hugging him. “I get to dance the role I’ve been practicing for months. You’re the sucker who has to relearn it all with a new partner. With <em>her. </em>Anyway, I like my costume.”</p><p>John sighed, a hiss of air through his teeth. He’d worked his ass off, from being the only boy in his class in Kansas, through to being the only American in the pan-European Royal Ballet. Now he was dancing the lead for the very first time, and he was desperate to stick the role, make a good impression, cement himself as a real dancer. </p><p>The last thing he needed was a new partner, one he’d never danced with before, weeks before what was meant to be his big moment to prove he deserves to be here.  “Do you know her?”</p><p>Kayo’s eyes are dancing as she stretched slowly from side to side. “I know <em>of </em>her,” she laughed. “Same as you.”</p><p>“Well, I heard she ripped the head off her last partner and ate him raw,” John tried to joke, but it came out tense.</p><p>“I’m sure she’s not that bad,” Kayo nudged him encouragingly as they drifted towards the barre to finish warming up. “She’s a Lady, I hear,” Kayo took her position, her hand light and confident on the barre. “I’m sure she cooked the head in a classy white wine sauce.”</p><p>John glared at her, lingering until he had to skip to get to position before the class began.</p><p>Class was a nightmare; John felt stiff and out of sorts, and the instructor caught him on every little fault, from the turnout of his foot to the lightness of his fingers. He wiped his face with his towel, irritated, as the company moved around him, preparing to shift from class to rehearsals.</p><p>“She’s here.” The whisper was a susurration, and John turned with the rest of the company towards the new prevailing wind.</p><p>She was tiny, even by the standards of ballerinas, but she moved like the world would reorient itself to her convenience.  The most annoying part was she was right, the corps rippling out of her way as the company director lifted a finger and pinned John to the floor from across the room.</p><p>She moved like a swan, head proud as she <em>glided</em> across the practice floor towards him. “So you are my Prince?” she asked, crisp and almost disdainful on the <em>you </em>as she looked him up and down.</p><p>John could not say what possessed him to bow, but he found himself bending at the waist, his hand already sketching a courtly flourish. When he straightened back up, her eyebrow was lifted almost to the line of her scraped back hair. Behind her, the director buried his face in his hands.</p><p>She turned sharply away from him, snapping her damn fingers. “Let me warm up and we’ll see what he can do.” The she was gone, the director and several of the trustees fluttering in her wake.</p><p>John kept his back to the room, doing final stretches as he waited for her to grace him with her presence again, the snap ringing in his ears. </p><p>He knew she had returned by the sudden hush in the room.</p><p>His heart was hammering a counter-beat, but John had been afraid before, been intimidated before. He’d forced it down long enough to get here, he could fake it a little while longer, if only to knock that demanding almost-sneer off the face of this primadonna princess.</p><p>Her hands were on her hip, one leg cocked as she stretched out the last few kinks en pointe. But she was looking at the director, not at him. “From the top,” she asked in a way that wasn’t a question.</p><p>John shook out his arms, walking around her without looking at her to take up his first position. His body knew these moves, and raising his arms was like a trigger. Everything fell away as he began to <em>dance</em>.</p><p>He almost faltered the first lift; she was smaller and lighter and oddly <em>tighter</em> than Casey was. But then he smiled. The next lift was higher, the one after higher still as neither of them flinched.</p><p>John spun tightly and stamped to a sudden stop, breathing hard. The entire routine seemed over in a heart beat.</p><p>You could have heard a pin drop in the studio.</p><p>Then he heard her sigh, a thoughtful noise. “Come here.” Her hands were light as she adjusted his grip on her waist. “Let’s do that last movement again, while we’re tired.” She finally looked him in the eyes, and John saw a flicker of warmth. “Doing it tired now will make the performance better later.”</p><p>“Of course, my lady.”</p><p>He felt her relax. “You can call me Penny,” she said quietly, for his ears only. “Music!”</p><p>John smiled and swept her up into the air again.</p></div></div><div class="bottompanel roundedbottom">
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